This was my third encounter with the late Patrice Chéreau’s production of Elektra following the inaugural run in Aix-en-Provence in 2013 and at the Scala the following year. I must admit that back then, I was quite skeptical about it. I felt that there were too many non-sequiturs and too many elements that did not quite, for want of a better word, work for me. The maids sweeping the stage for a few minutes before the music begins, for example, robbing the arresting opening of its impact, or Ägisth walking around Klytämnestra’s body and not seeing it. And yet it seems that a couple of years’ distance has made all the difference. I left the theatre completely convinced by Chéreau’s vision, here revived by Vincent Huguet, and the work of an exceptional group of singing actors.

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